


In Whom We Trust

by DawningStar



Category: Tron (1982)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawningStar/pseuds/DawningStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Accidentally crossing paths with Yori took considerable effort, when her schedule was even more unpredictable than Tron's own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Whom We Trust

Accidentally crossing paths with Yori took considerable effort, when her schedule was even more unpredictable than Tron's own. This microcycle, however, she wasn't hard to spot. The air of well-tried patience was almost as visible as the object she was rolling carefully down the street.

Tron examined the...thing, which was nearly his own height and just as wide. Its shape was close to a partial sphere, but the edges were jagged and pixelated, the top unevenly cut off. There were no energy lines. Just a solid bright orange surface, smoothly pebbled where it wasn't broken, a strange randomized pattern. The interior was hollow and slightly damp. The whole gave off a sharp, foreign scent.

No clear use he could see, no function, no directive or instruction. He gave up and asked, "What is it?"

At Yori's hard shove, the round thing rolled closer to Tron before wobbling and landing on its incomplete side. "The latest fun puzzle from the laser input bay."

From her tone, Tron concluded that it had been exactly the opposite of fun. "The Users must have some purpose for it," he offered what little certainty he had.

"The Users haven't given one." Yori folded her arms and leveled a frustrated glare. "It's called an _orange_ , or that was the filename. So much of what we got was junk data that we think our Users don't even want it back. We need to clear out the compiling queue. We didn't want to dump it without orders, in case they ask for it later. This was the best we could do."

Yori was even more beautiful when she was angry, but Tron still didn't want that look to turn his way. "Let me help you carry it home," he offered, leaning down to test the weight.

Her expression softened, but not much. "Shouldn't you be out lecturing bits about the glories of the User Alan-One?"

Clearing his throat, Tron found a careful grip on the rough edge and hoisted the unwieldy mass over his head. Light, if awkward. The tough, fibrous shell was interesting, even with no idea what it was meant to be. "The bit wanted to know," he defended himself.

"The bit thought you were hilarious," Yori corrected, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Tron grinned hopefully in response. "I don't mind that, if it made _you_ laugh."

She did laugh, a soft, musical chuckle. "You're cute, Tron. Don't push your luck."

A mocking crow of decidedly less welcome laughter broke the moment. Tron stiffened. Two programs in the bright red of the MCP Guard pointed at the orange. No, worse; at Yori.

"You'll have to do better than _that_ if you want the MCP to find any use for you, null unit!" one of them jeered aloud.

Tron might have started across the street at once if he hadn't been holding Yori’s special cargo, a gift from the Users. He couldn’t just drop it and teach these bitbrains some manners.

Worse, it occurred to him after a moment, a public fight with the Guards might put Yori in danger. The MCP had already shown far too much interest in the laser project. There were always watchers in these sectors now, who didn’t care about the commands of the Users.

Yori gripped his shoulder hard. "This isn’t the right time, Tron,” she hissed. “I know what your User wants, but you can’t do him any good if you get yourself derezzed.”

Forcing himself not to look at the red programs, Tron nodded. “Traitors,” he muttered.

She didn’t answer for the space of several buildings, until the Guards had long since lost interest. “Is it so wrong to want the orders you obey to make sense?”

He’d never heard that note in Yori’s voice before, and it frightened him. “Even if we can’t see their reasons or their plans, the Users who made us _must_ care more for us than the MCP ever will,” Tron argued. “The Users wrote us, and we owe them our trust.”

Yori shook her head slightly, but it didn’t look like contradiction. “I don’t know if I can ever trust them like that, Tron. They’re too far away, too unpredictable. I’ve seen too many times when they don’t seem to care about their programs at all, and if my User has any idea what’s happening here she hasn’t given me a word of useful advice about it.” She smiled sadly up at him. “But I’d trust _your_ User over the MCP anytime.”

Tron moved automatically to hug away that sorrow, and paused at the awkward realization that he was still holding the enormous hollow orange thing over his head. To his unspoken delight, it didn’t stop Yori from wrapping an arm around his waist in a swift embrace.

“When my User calls me, the system will be free again,” he promised softly. “Till then we’ll have to trust each other.”


End file.
